


A Waffle on Any Other Day

by ambivalentlangst



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Boys In Love, Broken Waffle Machines, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Inappropriate Use of Reddi-wip, Kisses Abound, Lance's Birthday, M/M, Petty Arguments, Shiro's Inability to Cook, Veronica McClain Cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambivalentlangst/pseuds/ambivalentlangst
Summary: Shiro may not be able to cook, but he can cut strawberries alright and with Keith around to help they're making Lance a damn good birthday breakfast, even if it's not in bed like they planned. Breakfast would be made considerably easier if they all would stop throwing food and harassing each other with whipped cream. Unfortunately they're all stupidly in love, so really, it's a very high expectation that none of them care much about anyway.





	A Waffle on Any Other Day

**Author's Note:**

> Well it’s a national holiday and since I couldn’t celebrate last year, you can bet your ass I wasn’t wasting my opportunity this time around. Wishing my best boy a very happy birthday via almost-breakfast-in-bed and Reddi-wip wars with his boyfriends wasn’t exactly my plan, but hey, it all worked out. On that note, I got requests for klance and shance, so I figured (and because I’ve been discussing it with another of my no. ones, [@lo-tor](https://tmblr.co/m9XKwwvERp6SO0OsYNmo0WQ)) I’d combine the two for some soft shklance. Happy birthday, Lance!
> 
> * * *

Shiro and Keith loved Lance a lot. Like, a _lot_. Enough to get up early and get out of their shared bed, which was saying something because Lance was comparable to an octopus in that once he stretched his gangly limbs around his boyfriends, there was no getting him to let go. In his boyfriend’s eyes, that was a beautiful thing.

Keith and Shiro looked to one another in reluctance, but as each other’s moral support they nudged and prodded Lance into withdrawing. Then it was off to the kitchen of their apartment for waffles, loaded with chocolate chips, powdered sugar, syrup, _and_ whipped cream, just how Lance liked them. Not Cool Whip though—the use of Reddi-wip was strictly enforced because Lance was nothing if not enthusiastic about unhealthy food options. They’d most definitely all go to the gym later at Shiro’s insistence that “sugar is fine as long as we  _work it off”_ , but Keith was holding out hope that Lance would play the birthday card to get them out of it.

Shiro was lucky he was weak for post-workout stupidity (Lance called it domesticity, but whatever) in the car ride back, or Keith would not comply with exercise that wasn’t boxing so easily.

He was just grateful Shiro wasn’t half as good at making food as he was at staying fit because seeing Lance’s favorite gingham apron on his comparatively much bulkier form would’ve had Keith in tears. Keith got to wear that, thank you very much, and breathed in the faint smell of their still sleeping lover while he instructed Shiro in chopping strawberries. As long as he didn’t have to touch any cooking appliances or mix ingredients, he could usually be trusted. After several experiences with their screaming fire alarm, Lance and Keith had found that yes, a toaster did indeed count as an appliance, whereas a coffee maker did not. It was a mystery to them all.

“I’m eating ones with the skin still mostly on as I go,” he informed Keith promptly. 

Keith shrugged. “Go for it. He hates the texture anyway.” He went back to watching the clock for a perfect golden brown waffle, just how Lance liked it, before giving pause. “Actually, wait.” He turned and dropped his jaw. Lance was better at it, but Shiro wasn’t too far behind him. “Toss me one,” he demanded lightly, opening his mouth again.

Shiro nodded gravely and closed one eye in an attempt to calibrate properly before making his shot. The method for darts Lance’s sister, Veronica taught them when she came to visit applied just as well in the situation. “It’s all in the wrist,” she’d explained. “Don’t drop your wrist on your throw and you’ll hit something every time,” she told them and then proceeded to get them all kicked out of the bar because she tied with Lance and they decided to wrestle for the breaker.

Keith grinned when Shiro hit his mark, and chewed with relish. The strawberries were perfect, walking the thin line between sweet and bitter that, between the three of them, was agreed upon as best. “Good job,” he acknowledged him, and then upon seeing that he was running a bit late on Lance’s waffle, lunged for the maker. The thing was broken, hence Keith’s eye on the time, but with a little extra supervision, they made do. He sighed in relief as it opened to reveal a suitably cooked waffle for Lance. “Perfect.”

He didn’t bother getting anything to preserve the currently not-burnt state of his fingers, transferring Lance’s breakfast to its waiting plate in short, jerky motions while he yelped in pain. Shiro was eating more strawberries. “Babe, you know you can get a fork to do that, right?”

Keith scowled, pouring more mix while he made a note to remind Lance that there was batter up for grabs when he spilled some onto the counter. He didn’t think it tasted any good, but Lance went nuts for it. “Forks are for quitters, Shiro.” Shiro laughed softly, though their attention was quickly stolen by Lance padding out of his bedroom with sleep-groggy eyes. 

He rubbed at one with the heel of his palm as he yawned. “Cooking breakfast without me, on my birthday? You guys are rude,” he complained. Shiro laughed again while Keith briefly abandoned the clock to observe Lance sliding into place at his designated bar stool via his penguin socks on the linoleum.

Shiro leaned over from his own, pecking Lance’s lips, who gave a close-lipped but no less broad smile in response. “We were going to bring you breakfast in bed, but now you’ve gone and shot that idea to pieces. How’re you up, anyhow? Smelled your surprise?” he teased. 

Lance yawned again, but his blue eyes were shining as he reached for the can of Reddi-wip left vulnerable by Keith and Shiro. “And if I did? It’s my birthday Shiro.” He paused for a moment to squirt a large pile of the stuff into his mouth, then kept talking around it while pointing with the container for emphasis. “I can do whatever I want.”

Keith plated Shiro’s waffle with the same series of poor decisions as last time while joining the conversation. “You do what you want even when it isn’t your birthday,” he pointed out helpfully. 

Lance didn’t deny it, taking his meal and adding his normal touches. “Correct,” he told him and leaned across the counter to give Keith a sloppy, sticky, cream and chocolate flavored kiss on his cheek. “And you two love me anyway! Must mean I’m doing something right.”

Shiro’s smile hadn’t strayed from his face for the entirety of the morning (minus getting up, naturally) and it still didn’t as he slid Lance the already partially demolished bowl of strawberries. “Well, who else are we going to use to win us ridiculously sized stuffed animals at carnivals?”

Lance smirked and smacked his arm. “Just for that, I think I deserve to be carried around for the rest of the day. You’ll get in that workout I know you’re already thinking about for when we’re done, and I’ll be treated like the luxury I am. Two birds with one stone, really.”

Keith’s waffle was done, and he settled in on Lance’s other side with a kiss to the top of his head. “Luxury my ass,” he told him as he spread butter across the crispy edges of his breakfast. He liked his a little burnt, despite how Lance protested the wrongness of it. “My cheek is tacky.”

The fact didn’t seem to bother Lance all too much, who took another bite of food and had yet to reach for a napkin. “It’s to make up for the sadness of your waffle. They just aren’t meant to be like that, Keith! Golden brown is always best. That goes for marshmallows too.”

It was a recurring argument. Shiro cut it off before it could get any further, to Keith’s gratitude. He could never stop himself from defending the taste of a blackened s’more. “Whatever you say, babe,” he told him, and Lance’s smile grew even brighter when he wrapped a hand around his shoulder and kissed him again. “Happy birthday. How’s breakfast? I cooked it all, you know.”

Lance snorted, looking to him with chocolate smeared around the corner of his mouth. “Horrible.”

Shiro’s eyes landed on his other boyfriend. “Keith made it, then,” he was quick to amend his original statement. 

Keith rolled his eyes but was as amused with his lovers’ shenanigans as ever. “The professional chef over there chopped strawberries. His aim is getting better.”

Lance hummed in acknowledgment around an aforementioned slice of strawberry. “Not to worry, I’m sure I can still wipe the floor with you both.” 

Keith reached for the Reddi-wip, spraying a little on Lance’s cheek. “Sure about that?”

Lance narrowed his eyes, trying to get the suddenly very dangerous weapon from Keith’s grasp. “Yes, and you’re wasting the best part of the meal!” he complained. 

Shiro darted in to lick some of it off of his skin, to Lance’s squeal. “Shiro, that’s gross! To be treated like this on today of all days, the _audacity_ —”

Keith effectively silenced the tangent Lance was likely to go on from there with a kiss. He pulled back with a grin. “Happy birthday, Lance,” he told his currently very flushed boyfriend, and in the commotion managed to get some more Reddi-wip on Shiro’s neck. Breakfast dissolved into chaos, albeit a very affection sort. None of them would have a birthday any other way.  



End file.
